


Like a Lovely Dream

by Zalezovalca



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cryptozoology, Demons, Ghost Hunters, Other, Witch Hunters, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21866407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zalezovalca/pseuds/Zalezovalca
Summary: Adrian Fisher works a boring job and takes boring classes. For all intents and purposes he is a boring man, and he likes that. A young witch names Ava turns his life on its head, and condemns him to a new fate.





	Like a Lovely Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so uh. I gave up on my other story.. I just couldn't get up the motivation to keep writing it. I wanted a change of pace. Again, feel free to comment! And if anyone actually cares enough to ask I might go back and finish the other story.

My hands feel warm, and wet. I feel something dripping from my.. Claws? I strain to see, but the worlds gone dark, a net of shadow blocking my view. But I feel different, tired and broken. Why do I feel this way? It takes me awhile but finally consign myself to the reality that I must be dreaming. Fast asleep in my bed. As this reality washes over me the veil is lifted, as it has so many times. I’m now privy to a sight that's become almost banal, a large open field of pink flowers, hydrangeas, an oak tree in the center. Below said tree lays a woman, she seems to be dead. I must have killed her. My hands, twisted into wretched talons, drip with what could only be her blood. I’ve given up searching for reason in this dream, I’m not a murderer and I have normal hands. So I fail to find a purpose behind my subconscious mumblings. She's looking at me now, the body I mean. I feel like I’m meant to recognize her though I draw nothing but blanks. She has long blonde hair, and bright green eyes. Her name is right on the tip of my tongue, but as I draw nearer, her image blurs. I wake as I remember her name, and like that it’s lost.

My name is Adrian Fisher, I'm 21, and I live in the small town of Oxnard California. I work as a barista at a local coffee shop. I don't really do much, but the title is nicer than just saying I sling beans for a living. The job’s nice, and I get a good bit in tips. My favorite part however is meeting some of the crazies the tourism around here drags in, as we say it’s all fun and games until someone thinks your gonna put up with their bloated Starbucks order. I have an early shift today, so I begin to prepare. My small two room apartment is just enough for me and my plants, so I have little to worry about. It happens to be close to the local college too, so my commute is rarely that long. I walk to my bathroom and begin to brush my hair and teeth. I’m tall and pale, with gray eyes. My hair is short and black and I’m not in perfect shape. I mean between my job and studies I don’t have the most time for working out, at least I tell myself. My preparations are simple and easy, and it’s not long before I’m out the door. Of course I water Dwight and Jim, a fern and succulent respectively. Some of my coworkers call me a dweeb, but I don’t have the room for any kind of pet, and I find gardening soothing. Well, if two potted plants count as ‘gardening’. It’s a short walk down the stairs that lead to the parking lot, where my moped is parked. 

“You ready for the day already Fisher?” A kindly old man calls out to me as I unhook the lock on my bike. “Yes sir, they're moving me earlier and earlier you know?” He gives me a kind smile and walks closer. “You know, Fisher, me and Karen have been wondering if you could take on some extra responsibility.” I cringe on the inside, but smile and respond, “Depends sir, I’m awful busy these days.” He winks at me, “You see Karen has family coming over to Ventura, but she’s gotten it into her head the cats are gonna die without us or something.” He pats me lightly on the back as I relax, “Could you pet sit for us? We won't ask you to do it for free of course!” Not particularly an issue, Mr. Brown is a good guy, and I’ll admit I fucking love petting his cats. “Yeah sir, I think I could take care of them for you.” I strap on my helmet and mount my moped, “Leave the keys in my mailbox when you leave.” I start my bike. “Thank you fisher, you're a good young man.” I give him a thumbs up as I begin to speed away. 

The sky is a bright orange as the sun begins to wake too, it’s one of the biggest perks Cali offers, the views. I’m lucky enough to work close to the beach so I get to watch the sun paint the ocean a bright orange in the morning, and a deep crimson when I return from class. I remember first moving here, and spending one evening just watching the sun set. It reminds me of when I was young and I’d sit on the lake with my father. People wave as I pass by, friendly for the supposed callous residents of the state. But as a local I know that to mostly be a rumor. The fresh maritime air brushes by my face, and gives the morning a chill. It’s going to be snowing soon, and everyone knows it. I guess I’m supposed to be spending the holidays with my family, but that's not really an option for me. My mind goes quiet as I ride through the streets, I remind myself why I don't like to think about holidays and try to bring myself back.

Clara’s Cup is a small coffee shop near the coast. We’re known for having good coffee, better baked goods, and shit attitudes. I’m actually the only one who’s not a colossal prick here. I park my bike by the back, and make my way inside. “I’ll take a double mocha triple caramel, peppermint mocha with three shots of espresso and no whipped cream.” Some tourist thinks he's gonna get away with shit like that here. “Yeah, and I’ll take a fucking break.” My managers low voice echoes through the shop. I hear the customer scoff and storm out the front. “You know Carol, you could do to be a bit nicer.” I greet her with some probably unwanted advice. “Yeah, and they could do to be less moronic.” She's chubby, with long platinum blonde hair and a lip ring. She wears thick rimmed glasses and shorts year round. I’ve known her for a while considering we both grew up in Alabama, she was the one who suggested I come out here for college after things fell through with my parents. “I guess I’m just saying what if one of these times it bites you?” She gives me a look of pity, “Then I’ll take the hit, at least I gave enough of a shit to speak up when someone tried to fuck me.” I drop my gaze to the floor, “Yeah, I guess.” I don't have the guts for anything, and most everyone around here knows it. “By the way Fish, good thing you’re here early.” I perk up, “I need someone on deliveries, and I dunno you got that cute little bike.” I grin at her, “It's a moped, Carol.” She makes her way to the kitchen, and beckons me to follow, “It's shitty is what it is.” I don't mind her insults, I know she doesn't mean them. And even if she did I know myself too well to think I’d do anything. “Excuse me Fisher, But I have three jobs for you today. Will that be amenable?” A younger pale person waves to me from behind an oven. Their name is Beatrix, but everyone calls them Bea. they're tall and thin, and wear smudged eyeliner like it's going out of style. “No worries Bea, I just need the directions and I’m on my way!” They grin at me, and wave shyly to Carol. “Hello Carol, I have finished the cookies, how much banana bread is left?” Carol pretends to count, “Uh enough?” She gives a dumb shrug, “Why not make some more croissants then take your ten?” Bea smiles, and begins hunting down ingredients. Carol pats me on the shoulder and sends me on my way. 

“Yo man! I thought I’d find your ass here!” Fuck, my arms are full, so I hurry over to my moped as the source of the voice accosts me. “Bro, I need you bad dude!” It's my friend T, a Hispanic young man about my age. We take the same biology class and he kinda decided we were friends without my consent. “Uh I mean I got work T, I can't really set things down just for you.” It’s not like I resent him or anything, more so that I find him stressful. “Uh nah, I just need your notes if that's chill.” He usually bothers me about this so it isn't a surprise. “Yeah, uh from last class?” I motion and he takes a hold of some of the orders, helping me set them down. “Yeah, right here. It was a boring lecture anyway, we talked about the liver.” T thanked me, and helped me load the orders onto my moped. “Hey Fish, you gonna be at the party tonight?” I smile sheepishly, “I uh, don't party.” T sidles closer and lightly punched me on the shoulder, “You do now.” I hate parties, all the people make me anxious, “I’m, I got plans.” T clearly isn't buying it as I have very little practice lying. “You name your plants after sitcoms, you ain't got shit tonight.” I’d rather he left Dwight and Jim out of this, but he makes a compelling point. “Fuck, fine.” T begins bouncing slightly with excitement, “When and where?” He begins towards his car, “I’ll text you!” Wonderful, starting my day off with bad news. I only hope my deliveries haven't gotten cold yet. 

The air whips against my face as I sped towards my first charge, a PTA meeting on the other side of town. The air stings, its cold and feels wet. Most likely we would be in for some rain by the end of the day. I don’t mind my place in life and I rarely wish for more. I have what I want: a home, a job, food, friends, a Netflix subscription of my own. But it often feels like everyone has some idea for me, as though I’m a blank slate to be worked around. T expects me to be a socialite, Carol wants a good little worker, and Mr. Brown wants some kind young man. But there's nothing wrong with what I want, mediocrity. As I lose myself in my thoughts I realized I was getting close to the school when I almost run a stop sign. They have tinsel on the fence outside the schoolyard, it's adorable. The complex looks small and quaint, not unlike my school back Eufala. I guess that's why I like it here. The room’s warm, I pull down my scarf. “Delivery, who's here to pick this up?” I call somewhat faintly, I’m not fond of raising my voice. “Yes that's mine.” An older woman, probably in her forties begins toward me. She looks like your average soccer mom. “Yeah, that's going to be five mochas three ice teas and a dozen cookies?” She nods at me impatiently. “I know my order, I made it didn't I?” I frown, why do people order shit if they're going to act like this to the poor guy who has to bring it to them? “Oh yeah, I’m sorry it's policy that I read off your order. That’ll be sixty dollars.” She shoots me a look bordering on disgust, and hands me the money. Conspicuously with no tip. But I’m not one to complain, I hate complaining.

My next two charges go swiftly, and pay significantly more. As I said, my work is easy and I get enough money. I consider myself a very low maintenance person. But time flies and days die, and soon it's evening. I made sure to go to class around noon, but most of my day was spent with a warm blanket and my laptop. It's about that time, my phone buzzes. It's a text from T, with the address. Apparently the party starts in about an hour, how thoughtful for him to wait until the very last second to tell me. I begin rushing to prepare, I don't really have any good clothes. Do you wear good clothes to a party? A better question is what kind of party even is this, will there be drinking? Drugs? The thought mulls over in my head, I really don't want to leave the safety of my apartment. I settle on wearing my old tuxedo from graduation, the knowledge that T would have my head if I ditched him. Begrudgingly I pull open my door, it's pouring outside. The sky choosing now to open up and expel it's contents right on my head. Today was shit already, and I didn't have a coat that would fit over my tux. As I set my helmet on my head my phone began to ring, it was a call from Carol. “Hey, uh what's up Carol?” The other side sounded busy, perhaps some tourists considering it was nearing the holidays. “I need you to make a delivery Fish, I know it's fucked out but I’m up to my ass in shit over here and Bea won't answer their phone.” I freeze, is she serious? “I have a party to get to, and there's supposed to be thunder later. I don't think I should be out in this.” She laughs audibly, “You don't have a party.” I begin to speak but she cuts me off, “Get your ass over here or I dock your pay.” I don't know why she's being such a hard ass, but I can't take the hit so I begin my trek over. The sky is dark, a far cry from the relatively peaceful morning, as winds push at me and rain lashes my face. “So uh, where do I need to go? I really need to be somewhere.” She's waiting out back with the order, “Ventura, here's the address.” I gawk at her, “Ventura? I have a party in an hour!” She looks me over, I must look like shit by now. “Maybe you should just head home after this then. I’m sure your little friends will understand.” I simply have no words, she calls as I take off, “Duty calls, eh Fish?” 

It's pitch dark and pouring by now, and I was right I hear thunder in the distance. Fucking Carol thinks she can just force me to do whatever she wants and hold my paycheck over my head like the sword of fucking Damocles. I’m taking this up with her boss when I get back. Or perhaps I shouldn't be that mad, at least now I have a good excuse for ditching T. It's getting hard to see, and I’m running out of gas. I’ll be able to make it to Ventura and back but I’ll have to fuel up first thing tomorrow. And that means waking up even earlier than usual. It's incredibly dark, and the road is oddly empty. It's late and storming but usually you can count on a couple people populating the street. As my mind begins to wander again it happens. As I take a hard turn a man walks in front my headlight. I don't have the time to think, and simply swerve. My moped loses traction on the slippery asphalt and sends me sliding onto the ground as it topples. I must have hit my head, because my vision begins clouding. I see the man walking towards me. He wears a long trench coat and has short graying hair. His stare pierces me as he begins to speak, “Gabhaidh mi truas riut fear òg, ach chan eil mòran smachd agam air cùrsa an dàn.” I reach towards him as my vision fades completely. 

My head hurts. I can't see, and I feel moist. I can't move my arms at all, and my back is killing me. Am I dead? Is this what death feels like? No, I guess this is what a hangover feels like. I blink the sleep out of my eyes and begin to try my best to wake up. My arms feel weak but upon further inspection I can move them. I look around, I’m in my bed. I can’t remember anything that happened last night. Maybe I had my first good party? I must have gotten drunk with T or something. I stand up, my head reminds me that's not the best plan. Maybe I should call Carol? I pop some aspirin and search my room for my phone. But it's nowhere to be found. Perhaps I should just drive out and tell her? I make it to my door before I pass out. 

It's dark, that's about all I can make out. I must have been out for a while, because it's clearly nighttime out. There's something wrong with me, and I don't know where my phone is. This isn't just a hangover. My head feels like it's being torn apart and my whole body is on fire. I stumble my way out of my apartment, something on me is bleeding. It's enough to leave a trail as I walk. I need to find help, maybe from Mr. Brown? I lay my hand on the railing as I walk down my stairs, but I slip anyway. It's unimaginable, but I pull myself up and continue stumbling towards safety. There's something clearly wrong with me, am I dying? It takes me a while, but I make my way to their apartment, and begin to slam my fist on the door. “Pleeease, helllp me..” My voice comes out in a sickly wail. The door opens quickly and I slide to the floor. A voice that I assume must be Mrs. Brown lets out a blood curdling shriek. I try to pull myself up to see what's gotten into her, and I’m met with the barrel of a rifle. “Don't you fucking move! I won't let you touch Karen!” Mr. Brown has a firearm pointed at my face and I can see his wife sobbing in the corner. “Miiister Brooown.” I try to get up, “heeelp.” His face is cold, and he regards me with the expression one would stare down a rabid dog with. “I told you not to fucking move.” I move my gaze to his wife, and she screams and points at me. “Sàmhchair!” A woman’s voice echoes from behind me, and Mr.Brown falls limp. His wife begins sobbing anew before she meets a similar fate. “Carson a dh ’fheumas seo a bhith na m’ obair?” I can’t turn to look at her, but she begins to drag me. The sight of a trail of my blood is the final nail, and I pass out again.

I can't move again. It's a different feeling now, I’m restrained. I jolt up, and look around, I’m in a small room. It’s cozy, there's a small lamp near the bed Im lying on and the walls are covered in posters. I look at my hands, they're wrong. My fingers twist into pointed claws. I’m in chains as well. “So you're awake now, huh?” I turn to see a young woman sitting in a chair across the room from me. She has long blonde hair, and bright green eyes. She's holding a small silver revolver and she regards me with curiosity mixed with abhorrence. “Where am I?” She smirks, “My house.” I raise my voice, “Where the fuck am I?” As I get louder my voice is not my own. As though two people are talking through the same mouth. The young woman stands up and approaches me, I curl back into myself. “Don't get smart with me, I told you, you're in my house.” She gets closer and I feel tears welling in my eyes. This seems to surprise her, as she pulls back. “Are you, uh, feelin’ alright?” I shake my head, “Everything hurts, why am I chained up?” She seems out of her league, “I don't uh, I don't rightly know if you’re safe to let go yet.” Why would she need to know that? I’m injured and she kidnapped me? “Please, I’m scared.” She winces, “What's wrong with my hands? Why do I sound weird?” Her abhorrence turns to curiosity, “I uh, you don’t know how this works?” How what works, is this lady insane? “I have no fucking clue what your talking about!” My voice certainly is not my own anymore. “Who are you?” I’m beginning to tear up now. “Ava.” I sniffle my tears, “My name is Ava. Uhm, what is yours?” My throat is so hoarse as I choke it out, “Fisher, Adrian Fisher.” She chuckles, “I was expecting like Belial, or Interitus or something.” Her response takes my composure, “Why the fuck would you think that? I’m a normal guy, I pour coffee for a living!” My voice rattles and I can feel sharp fangs in my mouth begin to protrude as I get angry. “No, you're a demon.” 

“Im a fucking what?” Ava stared at me as though she made perfect sense. “You're a demon, and still turning too.” I began to try to move, but the chains held fast, “Please let me go!” She stood up, and tightened her grip on her gun, “Stop it, you're only gonna hurt yourself.” She walks towards me, “There ain't no way your getting out of those chains until I know for damn sure I can trust you.” My thoughts are racing, do my friends know I’m gone? Will they be able to help me? “Oh god, please sit still!” She stares at me strangely, before an unimaginable pain sprouts across my back. There's the sound of cracking bones as my skin begins to tear. I can see Ava cover her mouth as she looks on in terror. It's only a matter of time, my skin splits and paints the wall in crimson. 

When I wake again She's sat me on my stomach, and I can tell why. The bed is covered in black feathers, and I feel two new appendages upon my back. Somehow I’ve grown wings. “Oh, are you up?” Ava is still sitting across from me, now eating from a thermos. “That was fucked! I ain't never seen a demon cry!” She's loosened my chains, so I sit upright. I guess there isn't much to do but give in, “I’m a demon?” Ava takes a swig off her thermos and walks over, “Yeah a bonafide daemon, you got wings, horns, what else do you need?” In a panic I reached for my face, sure enough I could feel them, two twisting horns rising from the crown of my head. “If.. I’m a demon, what are you?” I have a tail now, I can tell from the feeling of it twitching anxiously. “I’m a witch.” I began to stutter, “Magic isn't real, and even so, why did you kidnap me?” Ava laughs at that one, “I can't let a rogue demon just run his ass all over town can I?” She walks towards me, “You seem nice, but you know I can't trust a demon at his word.” I’m tearing up again already, “You just uh, get some rest. Those wings really tore up your back.” She smiles, “I bandaged you up but rest is best.” I shoot her my best intimidating glare, and lay down to try my best to sleep. It's not like I have a choice. Life has decided to tear away my dream.


End file.
